I am flying over a foreign land. Twenty metres below, blue mountains disappear into darkness. Dazzling creatures dart across sunlit valleys. In the distance, squadrons of mysterious shapes proceed in single file. Giant formations appear, a purple bouquet with fawn tips, a lime-green lettuce, a bulb of palest blue. All around, a crackle, like popping candy, the sound of this strange world quietly going about its business.

OK, I’m not actually flying. I’m floating above a kaleidoscopic coral reef near Woodlark Island, a speck in the Solomon Sea, and the water is so clear it feels like flying. I can’t stop looking at it, wanting to shout with joy. This is unexpected.